I put in my notice at 9 a.m. on a Thursday, staring at the “Submit” button on my voluntary termination for what felt like an hour. I knew pushing the button would mean ending 15 years at a company I had dedicated my life to: where I’d grown professionally, as a provider, through career transitions, two maternity leaves, and relationships with people I had come to admire and respect. When I was 22, fresh out of college and looking for purpose, I thought: this is it. This is where I’m meant to be. This is where I’m meant to help. I never anticipated that, at 37, I’d question whether I even wanted a corporate career.
You might be thinking, “What’s the big deal? People change jobs and change their lives every day.” But something unique is stirring with women, particularly millennial women, right now. I don’t know when or how it happened, but slowly, I started noticing hints of the midlife millennial career crisis in my algorithm, in real-life conversations with other women, and even in horoscopes read by strangers on the internet.
Little whispers of: “Is this really what you want out of life?” “Were you put on this earth to code-switch the truth into corporate language?” “Were you meant to sacrifice eight hours a day ‘providing’ financially, but lacking the presence to enjoy what you’ve even built?” My soul would reply, “Absolutely not.” Eventually, I recognized that I was justifying a life I had built but no longer felt authentic to who I am.
Millennial women are experiencing a career awakening
Something is happening with my generation of women. It seems we are collectively realizing the path promised to us isn’t what we thought. So many of us operated under the belief that as long as we followed the formula (work hard, get into a good college, graduate, and get a good job), things would fall into place. Millennials also grew up watching the women above us pave the path for success in the workplace, often enduring misogyny and blatant sexism.
In a way, I felt like I owed it to the women who endured this and the women who weren’t able to enjoy a career making money to pursue success in the workplace (people like my mother-in-law, a successful executive in a male-dominated career, and my mother, who was a homemaker but desperately wanted a career for herself).
“So many of us operated under the belief that as long as we followed the formula (work hard, get into a good college, graduate, and get a good job), things would fall into place.”
If you follow the discourse about women in the workplace, you’ll find many perspectives that, while women found increasing success in the workplace, the demands and expectations of motherhood didn’t shift equitably, and the systems in both society and the workplace never changed either. Childcare got more expensive, our society remains individualistic, and you’re expected to work like you’re not also a full-time parent. It also leaves very little time to honor a version of yourself that deserves joy.
Losing myself in a definition of success that wasn’t mine
When I was little, and life was still a blank canvas, I imagined myself as an artist. Or a graphic designer. Something creative, but likely not lucrative. As the eldest daughter of two extremely resilient immigrant parents, that wasn’t ideal. So, driven by the promise of financial stability in the name of the “American Dream,” I chose a stable job because that’s what the sacrifice called for, and I promised myself that when it was “enough,” I would revisit my childhood aspirations. I was taught that this was the definition of modern womanhood: we should grow up successful, career-driven, ambitious, and independent.
The problem is this: if you don’t define “enough” ahead of time, or how you uniquely define “success,” you’re likely to succumb to how others define “enough” or “successful” for you. For me, success looked like promotions, validation, acknowledgment, and praise for my competence. It looked like a high salary. It looked like “oohs” and “aahs” at my husband’s work functions when guests praised my impressive career and successful “pivots.” I appeared to have a hyper-independent existence.
Over time, that promise gave way to different kinds of handcuffs: financial stability but little joy, a retirement account but the drudgery of getting through one more day, and disposable income that cost me my peace. Eventually, that original vision for my life disappeared.
Questioning whether corporate work is conducive to motherhood
In short, the corporate world is designed to benefit companies. Sometimes those companies’ missions are purposeful and well-intentioned, and that can be a beautiful thing; I want to say corporate work may work for some women, fit their lifestyles, and be an honorable way to make a living. Ultimately, though, do I believe that it’s conducive to motherhood (or even parenthood)? In its current state, no.
For careers to be, I think we have to dig into the larger conversations about society and the value we assign to women’s labor in making a corporate life successful, and the duality of the cognitive load of keeping it together at home and at work. For me, it felt like the only path. Once I chose that path, I felt like I had to stay. The biggest gift motherhood has given me is clarity: clarity in what I want, what kind of mother I hope to be, and what life design will get me there. I am so lucky to have that choice.
Deciding to quit my corporate job
I worked with a career coach to clarify a decision I originally saw as emotional. Before I did, I spent over a year justifying staying, thinking I was just dealing with a “bit of burnout.” The reality? I felt scared. I had achieved so much success at work. Twice I’d pivoted in my career and invested so much time and money to learn new skills and put myself out there. I worked so hard to prove myself in an industry where my transition from clinician to a more technical career and eventually a leadership role in a technical career was constantly questioned. I eventually earned respect, success, and recognition, but I couldn’t understand why I was so unhappy.
Working with a career coach highlighted why I was so unhappy
Through coaching, I realized the original thrill of overcoming adversity in my career transition had worn off. Plus, the politics of a leadership role impeded the work I wanted to produce, and I mourned the time I’d lost with my young children. I also felt like I had lost myself and my creativity. Working with a career coach helped me to realize:
- I was susceptible to the “sunk cost fallacy,” the feeling that I had already invested so much time and energy in this version of success that it felt like wasted time.
- I feared the financial impact of resigning on my family.
- I feared how my partnership with my husband would change. Would I feel dependent and trapped without my own income, even if temporary?
Reframing my thoughts about resigning
My coach helped me reframe these thoughts:
- What I perceived as “sunk cost” was really the skills and experiences I had cultivated over the years to prepare for a future I could create. I now knew how to create and lead teams. I knew how to pitch ideas and execute them confidently. I learned how to stand up and advocate for what was right. I learned many clinical, technical, business, and communication skills. I created products.
- I needed financial clarity to make a confident decision. I needed to start small by defining what was “enough” and get very clear on what were “wants” vs. “needs” in my budget.
- I needed to trust that my relationship was strong enough to have direct conversations about what a life change like this could look like. I needed to be vulnerable enough to voice these fears to my husband, which wasn’t easy. But our relationship and our trust ended up better for it.
Dealing with the reality of my decision
When it came time to respond to my official resignation, it became an emotional rollercoaster. I felt relief. Then I texted all my friends who knew how miserable I was in my work environment. Lucky to have a supportive friend group, I got praise, congratulations, and an overwhelming show of support and love.
One friend encouraged me to drink champagne to commemorate the moment and dropped off a box with a cake in it and a note congratulating me. I could hear my husband, ever supportive, tell his colleagues on work calls that I was resigning to a new phase of my life. And then, about two champagne glasses in, I began to mourn the rhythm and patterns I would be losing—the team I had built, the program I had created from the ground up, and the reputation I had cultivated over 15 years.
I sobbed uncontrollably, crashing down from the champagne while my husband held me, and I contemplated the weight of the decision I just made. Sometimes, the right decision still feels so hard. Even now, as I progress through these last weeks of offboarding, it’s painful to feel like I’m letting go of a life I worked so hard for. But I am trusting myself to explore a version of life with the type of agency I want over my time.
Moving forward
I don’t have a job lined up. Still, I have a definition of rest that I’m holding myself accountable to (three to six months of true rest focused on my health, recovering with sleep, finding hobbies I enjoy, and resisting the millennial urge to monetize any of them).
I know I can now enjoy a certain level of privilege, having had years of these opportunities, and I don’t take that lightly. Not everyone can choose. But in choosing this for myself, maybe the path I’ve left paved the way for someone whose dream it was to fill the gap I’ve left vacant. I know what comes next is grappling with who I am without the achievement and validation from a formal work environment. But I’m looking forward to honoring myself and my joy, and truly taking time to enjoy the definition of success I had while I build and learn what it means for me moving forward.
I’m looking forward to the intentionality and presence I’m gifting myself and my children. And most of all, I hope that I’m setting this example for my daughter: modern womanhood is the ability to choose for yourself what your life looks like—defined by you and your definition of joy and meaning.
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